


Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2020

by UnholyHelbig



Series: Pitch Perfect Horror Week [4]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Cryptids, F/F, Ghostbusting (Ghostbusters), Horror, Pitch Perfect Horror Week, Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2020, Spooky, Vampires, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: A collection of prompts for Pitch Perfect Horror Week 2020!
Relationships: Beca Mitchell/Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale/Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell/Aubrey Posen, Emily Junk/Aubrey Posen, Emily Junk/Beca Mitchell, Stacie Conrad/Aubrey Posen
Series: Pitch Perfect Horror Week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149506
Comments: 40
Kudos: 28





	1. Scratching at the Door

**Day One: Creature Feature/ Cryptids**

**Emily could feel** her stomach contract as the old Sedona made its way over the packed dirt path. Its giant wheels didn’t’ struggle as much as her pension for keeping her breakfast down. She instinctively grasped at the foam-covered bars that kept tourists seated and tried to will her first meal to stay put.

The yellow paint was chipping away to a rusty red and the logo “Fort Worth Guided Tours” had long ago faded away. They had tried to fix it with a poor attempt at gluing on a plastic design instead, but it was just as bad under the mercy of the sun.

Emily realized she had stopped listening just as they ducked under another canopy of trees. The sun that had been burning her skin raw vanished, if only momentarily, as the ride decided to smooth out.

“Not many people come out here in our offseason,” The woman at the wheel said over the sputtering engine. “Fort Worth is a beauty all year round but it’s more of a summer destination- Gee, you don’t know how glad I am that we found you. The job isn’t too taxing, I promise.”

The girl bit her tongue and laughed nervously. The forest stretched out for miles in front of them; Emily could hear water on all sides of them but hadn’t been able to locate its source yet. The air was beginning to sting against her cheeks and she loosened her death grip on the bars.

She had been staying at a motel right off the highway that smelled strongly of stale cigarettes and off-brand detergent. Someone had tossed a newspaper into the bin by the vending machines and against her better judgment, she pulled it from the old receipts and food wrappers. An ad for a winter caretaker was among the classifieds. Emily jumped on the chance for permanent room and board.

She had fibbed in her initial interview about previous experience; but as Chloe said, it wasn’t a difficult job and both of them took an instant liking to one another. So she considered herself lucky. Emily would fake it until she made it, and by then, the summer season would be in full effect and she could head to whatever small town she threw a dart at on the map next.

Chloe beamed and stepped on the gas a little harder to get over a big dip in the trail. “There are a few people who go fishing on the lake in the early mornings, but most of the time it’s just you and a few other employees. You’ll hardly see them.”

“What exactly am I doing?” Emily asked, holding her breath as Chloe took a sharp corner. She tried not to look at the steep fall to her right. “The ad wasn’t really specific.”

“You just need to keep an eye on the property. The City owns most of this place and they have pretty shallow pockets if you know what I mean. We put almost every other staff member on sabbatical. For the most part, it’s just you and the night shifter.” 

Emily nodded along like she understood and let the rest of the ride go as smoothly as possible until an old cabin came into view. It looked dusty; it’s wood paneling enveloped in the thick forest. There was an old grill and a hammock that had been wrapped inside of itself. The engine cut off entirely, and it made her ears ring.

She could smell the water, and hear the river trickling somewhere west of the structure. Chloe hoisted the one duffel bag out of the backseat and reached with her other hand for the rifle that Emily hadn’t known was there. She had never fired one off before, but that was one of the formalities that she blurred to get this position in the first place.

Her boots crunched on the gravel and she minded her weight on the creaking steps leading to the cabin door more than Chloe did. The door had been painted red at one time, a bloody-pulpy color that had faded away. There were sets of long scratches against the remaining color. Emily moved the pads of her fingers against the gashes and felt a chill run up her arm.

“What made these?” She asked. Chloe glanced up from her task of finding the keys to the cabin. Her crystal eyes reflected green under the trees. She narrowed them and finally grabbed hold of her prize.

“All sorts of animals out on Greer Island. Some of them are more curious than others.” She shoved the rifle into Emily’s hands. It was weighty and smelled old. “That’s why you have this.”

Whatever- free room and board. She could deal with a couple of bears and some daring deer. It was better than the cheap motel room and the scratchy sheets. It was a much better improvement than the backseat of her Toyota. She followed Chloe into the cabin.

A thin layer of dust covered the entire place; there was an old plaid couch and a matching chair that sat adjacent to the grey stone fireplace. A bookshelf devoid of much reading material was pushed against a far wall below a taxidermy bison that looked like it was missing an eye. The place had an open floor plan and lead directly into the kitchen. There were two closed doors that held firmly onto that crimson color.

Chloe set the duffel bag down with a loud thud, Emily felt her fingers clench around the barrel of the gun and her shoulders edge up to her ears. She stifled a profanity and took a few more steps into the little cabin.

“The fridge is fully stocked.” She continued, “I’m out here once a month to restock everything for you. There isn’t much service, but there is a walkie-talkie in the bottom right drawer that has enough power to get to the main cabin. If it’s storming, that’s not the case.”

Emily nodded again and tried to comprehend the quick instructions. Chloe talked too fast, she decided. But she listened eagerly. “What do I do if it storms?”

“Either use that gun or run like hell. You can try both but” Chloe frowned and ran her finger over the edge of the rickety kitchen table and picked up a layer of dirt. “Christ this place is dusty. Anyway, you have four patrols around the lake each day. It takes an hour for each one. Between them, you can do whatever you want except for swim in the water. That’s how you catch something nasty.”

“What exactly am I looking for?”

Chloe shrugged “Anything out of the ordinary. If you see people fishing make sure you check for their license. The date of expiration is on the top right corner. If they’re expired, ask them to leave and radio into the main cabin so they can keep their eyes peeled.”

“Ok.”

“And whatever you do, make sure you finish your last patrol before dark. The sun sets around Six right now but it’ll change to five soon enough. Make sure you have enough firewood and lock the door. Don’t open it until your morning patrol.”

“Ok,” She dragged the word out this time. Something about Chloe’s change in demeanor made her itch uncomfortably. There was a stillness to the air. “Sounds simple enough.”

“Like I said, not too taxing, you can get some writing done up here, I’m sure.” She was beaming again, like the desolate nature of her words hadn’t weighed so heavily on the atmosphere. She dusted her hands off on her jeans and informed Emily that her uniform was in the closet (Which she learned was the door to the left).

“Oh, and Emily?” 

“Yeah, boss?”

Chloe was standing with her hand on the door. She left the metal key they used to enter on the table on the clear spot that was wiped away earlier. Her eyes were that dark and stormy blue again. “Whatever calls to you in the middle of the night ignore it. It’s not real.”

Emily didn’t sleep well that night, despite the four-post bed being the closest thing she’s felt too comfortable in months. Chloe’s words weighed heavily on her, and she locked the three deadbolts that she hadn’t noticed before. She had located the radio and kept that on the nightstand until she fell into a fitful slumber.

The sun rose right at six and her alarm started blaring. She slid on the jacket with Lake Worth’s logo on the breast and the sleeve before following the clearly marked trail towards the water. It was a simple walk and it was too early for her to spot anyone fishing.

She ended up back at the cabin at 7:30 and collapsed in a cold heap on the dusty couch. It was oddly silent and she had two more hours to kill before she had to make the trek again. Chloe was right; she would get a lot of writing done here. 

Emily brewed some coffee and downed two cups as she wrote a decent part of her manuscript, papers spread over the kitchen table. The alarm on her watch went off a few minutes before 10:00 am and she made her way back to the lake.

The autumn sun was warm against her cheeks and she decided to enjoy the walk more this time. She breathed in the scent of the season and kept her eyes out for anyone on the water. She checked one fishing license and went on her way.

Her next patrol wasn’t until 3:00 pm so she decided to crack open one of the many books on the shelf. She chose “The Howling” by Gary Brandner and settled onto the couch, getting lost in the cheesy horror novel from the ’60s.

Emily had fallen easily into the routine three days in; she did each patrol but struggled immensely to beat the sunset on her fourth walk around the lake. It was colder and it made her move slower.

The scratching started on the seventh day. Her world had grown colder and she had fallen into an easy routine of walking around the lake. She left the double-barrel rifle next to the front door but made sure the radio was strapped to her belt.

The first night she heard it was no different. She had nearly forgotten Chloe’s foreboding words, but it had become a habit to lock the door at night. She missed the moon and the crisp dark air. But even still, she headed the warning.

Emily had dozed off on the couch with the book at her side. It’s heavy spine hitting the floor startled her awake. The fire she had stoked burned out and her heart pounded in her chest. But that wasn’t what had stirred her, no, it was a dull scratching- barely noticeable if it weren’t for the quiet of the cabin.

She sat up and stared at the door.

It budged at the pure force of the animal on the other side, and Emily figured that she had been reading too much about the occult. As Chloe said, some beasts are more curious than others, and she had dead-bolted everything. She watched the door for a few more tedious moments before crawling into bed.

Emily saw the tracks the next day.

They were unlike any animal she had come across before; long and jaded. It’s nails dug into soft clay earth and trailed right up to her front door. There were fresh slashes in the red paint- and she swallowed back her discomfort.

She had to call the cabin on her fourth walk that day, the sun was setting faster than she cared to admit and she trudged through the icy path. An orange light coated the earth as she thought strangely of the animals around her. The particular animal that started to wait under her window at night, it’s breath fogging the glass. She made it to her porch just as the soft pink of the sky faded to a darker blue, almost black.

Emily had another restless sleep, like her first night in the cabin. There was the same scratching at her door and the radio crackled with feedback next to her. She wondered if anyone else heard the thing past her walls.

Chloe brought her new supplies on the tenth day, stating that the roads were a lot worse than usual and that a big snowfall had cleared out the entire grocery store in town. She presented her with stale bread and some orange juice that had enough pulp to create the fruit that it came from. Her boss stuck around and fried up some eggs.

“The scratches on the door,” Emily started.

Chloe stilled her movements, she had the blunt end of the spatula against the iron skillet. But it was just a beat where she was taken aback, barely noticeable. “Mm, have they been bad?”

“No. I mean, as normal as they can be. What kind of animal sounds like that?”

“We’re not sure. Not one you want to mess with.”

She tipped the pan over and divided the eggs evenly between the two before sitting in the rickety chair across from Emily. She didn’t wait to dig in, shoving a good heaping of the food into her mouth. Emily figured it avoidance.

“You said something about it calling out to me”

Chloe stopped the fork halfway to her mouth, a large glob of yellow yolk splashed into the grooves of the table. She lowered it and sat back in her seat. “Has it?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Good.”

She dropped the subject after that. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence and Chloe left before the next time Emily had to trudge along the lake. It was getting harder, the colder it was, to get back to the cabin before nightfall. She gripped the radio tighter and let the eggs settle to the bottom of her stomach like rocks.

She put what Chloe said out of her mind until the scratching began again.

Emily had another fitful sleep. The air was growing colder and it made her chest ache. She rose when the sun did and took her first walk around the lake. She spotted two fishermen by the edge of the water and stopped just short of the tree line.

“Howdy,” one of the men said, he reached instinctively for his wallet, and Emily, drowsy from sleep, thanked him. “You’re new.”

“You’re out here a lot?”

She checked both of their licenses and watched as they effortlessly slid them back into one of their pockets. The sky was overcast and there was an odd stillness to the water. The man who had stayed quiet smiled widely and nodded. The fishhooks on his hat clinked together.

“Oh yeah, all the time. Most people don’t like to be out here in the cold but we love it. Fewer tourists and people trying to get a look at that dumb lake monster, they simply scare him off if you ask me.”

The other man shoved a pointed elbow into his friend “You know that shit ain’t real. It’s a money pit. Hell, they have shirts and bumper stickers. It’s nothing but a legend.”

“No, remember Mike? It hopped down from the trees an’ slashed all four of his tires. That’s why his hair is grey.”

“Mike Granger? His hair is grey because he’s an old lying bastard.”

Emily watched the exchange with wide eyes. She didn’t know much about this sleepy little town. She had pulled into the motel in the late hours and only spoke with one woman. Her voice was husky from years of smoking and the only vacancy sign in the place buzzed like a trapped fly. She should have paid more attention- should have eaten at a diner or asked Chloe more questions, even if she didn’t get the answers she wanted.

“I’m sorry… monster?”

Both men stopped their arguing and stared at her. She waited as her breath pooled past her lips. They were dried and cracked and tasted like blood. The taller one cocked an eyebrow and sent a narrow glance at his friend.

“Now, surely you didn’t take this job without knowing the Lake Worth Monster.”

She shrugged dejectedly “I’m afraid I did.”

“It’s a big hairy beast. Half goat, half-man, some bloke even said he can shapeshift. It’s got scales too and apparently claws long enough to slice tires. It’s been around since 1969 and our little town has capitalized on it since then. Like I said, a complete marketing scheme.”

Emily hugged her jacket closer and nodded. She thanked both of the men and continued on her way. She didn’t stop until she was back at her cabin. Her breath was shallow and she knelt down to stare at the long scratches on the door.

She struggled to put the beast out of her mind, to forget what the two strangers had said. She had checked and then double-checked the locks but still, she worried. Her eyes trained themselves on the ceiling and she listened as something crawled below her bedroom window.

Emily woke the next morning to the radio crackling. She reached for it blindly. “Hmm?”

“Emily, do you copy?”

“I copy.”

“I know it’s early. There’s been an accident. I need you to meet the sheriff down on the south side of the lake.”

Emily sat up and cursed herself for the quick movement as stars danced against her eyes. She pressed her palm against her forehead and blinked hard until they faded away. She squeezed the radio and told Chloe that she understood, even though she didn’t.

She saw the caution tape and the flashing lights that looked brighter under the half-risen sun. The sheriff was a tall woman with dirty blonde hair and soft pink lips. She was bundled up more than Emily and stood with her boots at the edge of the icy hardened shore. There was an overturned boat and the crackling of a radio other than hers.

“Emily, I presume?”

She nodded and her head was spinning “What’s all of this about?”

“Two fishermen are missing to the public.”

“What does that mean?”

“As far as anyone else knows, they’re just missing.” The sheriff grimaces and fixes her hat. “They were mutilated.”

Emily swallowed the dark feeling in her stomach. “By what?”

“You mean who?”

“Yeah, yes. By who?”

Emily didn’t’ mean by who; she meant what she had said and the sheriff stared at her as if she were to head back to the cabin and never speak of it again. Did this town have a vow of silence in the winters? She sheepishly kicked at the gravelly sand and listened as the woman spoke evenly.

“We don’t know. We were hoping that you had seen something but Chloe explained that you wouldn’t have. Said you were really good at your job and the time that these men were killed doesn’t line up with one of your patrols. I still wanted to speak to you.”

She could smell the blood and the way it mixed with the black water and looming fog. She wondered if they didn’t’ follow the rules and hadn’t gotten inside before the sun moved behind the horizon. This was the price to pay, for insolence.

Emily answered the remaining questions that the sheriff had before trudging back to the cabin. This time, she didn’t’ stop to feel the scratches on the door. This time she slammed it behind her and flopped onto the couch. She must have fallen asleep.

It was nearly dark, and she was late by the time she woke up. She had missed both of her midday patrols and wasn’t about to miss the fourth. Her body ached from the uncomfortable position she had winded up in. Emily slid on the jacket and thought twice before grasping at the shotgun behind her. It’s weight nearly throwing her off.

She was tired and the air was buzzing with electricity. There was a storm brewing and half of her knew that the rain would come down as slush instead of simple water. The twilight sky had clouds blocking a half-moon.

Emily had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to lose this one like she had the others. She had convinced herself, in the few weeks of solitude, that the manuscripts were coming along nicely because of the environment and the way she could listen to her own breath and the sounds of the cabin settling.

The sheriff and the boat, and the horrid scent of dried blood had been swept away with the wind. She kept further away from the shore, only stalling for a moment as the color in the sky began to fade away to black.

Emily didn’t know why she stopped. Why she listened to the ripples hit the shore and her own stilted steps against the sand. Her toes were numb, two pairs of socks not enough to keep the cold at bay. She recalled a conversation she had with Chloe the second time she dropped off supplies. This time she brought Emily a notebook and some pens- a few books about the Holocaust to lighten the mood.

It wasn’t a funny joke, but she chuckled anyway. “Thank you for taking this job, Emily. I’ve really taken a liking to you, you know?”

“I like you too, Chloe.”

She had flipped through the pages of the book and faired that if she got really desperate, she would give them a shot. She wasn’t’ much into history and neither was Chloe, seeing as she left them here with not much care.

“You been hearing weird things at night?”

“No,” She lied, setting the book on the step next to her “Whatever it was must have gotten bored enough.”

Chloe nodded and smiled before climbing back into her dusty yellow jeep and heading off to her next destination. Emily sat on the porch and watched her go. She breathed in the musty scent of the trees around her and flexed her fingers. Emily had made up her mind a few nights ago.

She wasn’t sure if she should watch the sun settle behind Lake Worth. If she should plant her feet in the sand and wait until whatever it was that wanted her came. A bit of caution tape was left behind, its plastic hissed in the wind so loud that she nearly didn’t hear the twig breaking.

Chloe had been hiding something; and as foolish as it was, Emily needed to know what. Those men, those that had settled onto the rocky lake with the intention of fishing had to be one of many. One of maybe thousands. Her morbid curiosity was too much.

Emily heard it before she saw it. She waited for something and nothing all at once, her breath solidifying in front of her as night finally fell. She hadn’t seen the way the sky lit up with stars all at once- but she enjoyed it now. Her eyes traced the constellations.

She clenched her eyes shut until those stars appeared within her mind and the sound of the water lapping at stones and sand and dirt moved over her ears. Almost too loud for her to hear it. Almost. Emily felt the heat of its sour breath on her shoulder, and even from where she stood, she knew it towered.

Emily drew in a cold, ragged breath and she tightened the grip on a gun, she didn’t even know how to use.


	2. The Scent of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #2: Unusual Familiars 
> 
> When a witch hunt starts in Chloe Beale's small town, the only place she can turn is towards her familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so turns out I'm going super dark this year. If you guys couldn't tell from the first story! I'm really going to try to keep up, but life is super busy right now. Eventually, all of the prompts will be completed. Let me know what you think!

**The scent of** fire nipped at her lungs until they burned. Chloe swallowed the metallic taste in her mouth and stared at the cracked wooden floor. Some of it reflected the ash tracked by Father Aspen’s shoes. She tried to ignore the way they looked like faces screaming for the very mercy he preached about each Wednesday and again on Sunday before the sun had even risen to its highest point.

This fire smelled different.

Her mother pressed the only silk handkerchief she had against her lips to stifle what they were all too afraid to mention. It was her nice one, the royal blue one that had their family monogram stitched into the side. Her father brought it home from the city. He brought Chloe a snow globe that sat next to the oil lamp on her school desk.

Chloe wished she had one of her own, that she didn’t have to pretend she couldn’t smell it. The rest of the church sat in an odd silence while Father Aspen wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He smeared ash on his beaded skin.

She moved her own hand against the base of her nose but felt her mother’s razor-sharp nails dig into her thigh. He was scanning the crowd, clutching the podium. Chloe struggled to ignore the strangled sobbing of the woman in the front pew and the half-hearted attempt of her husband to quell it.

“Revelations 21:8 ” Father Aspen had breathed in too much smoke, his voice was gravelly “as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”

The mother in the front row screamed out again, her cries muffled in pain. Chloe grimaced and turned her face to the side. Her own mother didn’t condemn her this time. Father Aspen was panting with exhaustion and a few around the room spurred his dark smile on.

“This town has been in the unknowing presence of Evil for far too long!” He shouted, calming the room “Miss Prescott is a clear example of what we do to the unholy in Barden. Let it be a warning to clear the filth from our streets and stir the rebellion from our children. Let it be a warning.”

 **Chloe dug the** blade of the knife into the soft skin of the third potato that she had pulled from hard soil. The winter season was upon them, and her stomach clenched at the idea of a quality meal. It would be the last of the year.

It was just the two of them when her father traveled for work. Her mother had quickly closed the door to his study as they returned from church. She was penning him a letter now, she guessed, despite not much ink being left in the little vile. Barden had had its first real witch burning, and that was big news. It wouldn’t be long before it’s second.

“You could have done something to stop this,” She mumbled softly, taking a good chunk of hard skin away from the yellowed vegetable. “Isn’t that your job?”

She had felt the woman’s presence in the church, just beyond the stained windows as smoke coated the air. That scent of burnt flesh wicking into her Sunday clothes. Her familiar lurked and watched and worried like the rest of them.

Chloe heard her scoff “Puritan panic is nothing short of entertaining. Though, what happened to Abby is tragic. Your priest wants to make an example and he would have done it regardless.”

“What comes next?”

“The same thing that happened in Salem, I suppose. They’ll string them up like Christmas bulbs on a Douglas Fir.”

Chloe dropped the knife and let it clank against the cutting board loudly before turning quickly to face her familiar. She sat in one of the kitchen chairs, slumped back on its hind legs with her own feet crossed at the ankles. Beca had a smug look on her face. Chloe would have thrown the kitchen utensil if the demon wouldn’t find it amusing.

“Careful, Chloe, if your mother senses you slipping into madness, she’ll turn to her religion for help.”

She ignored the comment. “What if it’s I they make an example of next?”

She scrunched up her nose as if she were thinking, but perhaps she hadn’t been at all. “Tragic.”

Chloe Beale didn’t mean to fall into witchcraft, just as Abby Prescott hadn’t. A group of them gathered in the graveyard one night, the only one in town. Aubrey Posen had raided her father's stuff and found a book that none of them wanted to touch- but they had. After a few slices of the palm and magic words, they had fallen deep into a habit.

A rush of dark magic made Chloe feel alive. So she read on, she receipted more incantations by the light of oil and the cover of darkness. She had reached the back of Aubrey’s book and ended up with Beca.

“You were supposed to be of some use to me,” She growled under worn breath. “I haven’t yet called on you.”

“No take backs, I’m afraid. A demon can sense chaos from millenniums away. I knew that you needed help.”

“You fed off of the fear.”

“oh, that’s cruel. Maybe I genuinely want to help you, Chloe.” She said “Lay off the witchcraft for a while. I know the feeling of dark magic is intoxicating but if it cooks you like dear Abby then is it worth it?”

“I’ve thought of that.”

“And the verdict?”

Chloe ran her dirt-stained palms against her apron. “I can use it to my advantage instead.”

Beca let out a loud groan and placed all four legs of the chair back onto the dusty floor. The young girl in turn picked up her knife once more and made even cubes of the vegetable before dropping them into the broth that boiled above a lit fire. Witchcraft was no different from cooking- maybe with more consequences than a full stomach.

She heard the floor creak behind her and felt Beca’s hot touch on her hip. Her fingers burned hungrily through her cotton dress and apron. Chloe stopped her task and made her stance rigid. She focused on the iron pot hanging from a little hook on the wall. Her hand clenched the knife.

“Chloe, I am your familiar, whether you like it or not. Though I am here to serve you and _patronize_ you, I ultimately have a say in your actions. After all, we share the same master.”

“I serve no one.”

Beca scoffed and withdrew her touch. It made Chloe turn once more. This time she was mere inches from her familiar. Her features were cat-like, long, and slim. Her eyes dawned the same brightness of a black feline wandering around the barn on the edge of their property. She hadn’t thought of the connection until now.

Beca smelled of ash. Not the same thickness as the particles from this morning before the service, but ash all the same. “Before my God, you served the one you worship every Sunday. That, we both know. The second you spoke those words in the land of the dead, you were bound.”

Beca placed her molten touch under Chloe’s chin, leading the girl's eyes up to hers. Her palms dug deep into the counter behind her and breath caught as if to fight off the scent of fire and old magic.

“Love, I am here to assist you in your ultimate immortality. You’re my master in this battle, but not in this raging war. In order for you to lead, you must not be burned at the stake. Do not abandon your practice or your patience, but don’t feed into it. Not for the next month.”

Chloe swallowed hard “And what of Aubrey?”

“Aubrey is not of my concern. The girl does seem intelligent enough to do the same. Neither of you shall speak of this. Abby was a great loss.” Beca moved her hand away and Chloe cleared her throat. She missed the touch sorely but turned back to her task, mind reeling.

She had moved on to peel another potato. She knew her skin was raw and angry where Beca's hand was. Her fingers trembled, wishing to soothe the ache. The door to her father’s study creaked open and she heard her mother’s footsteps. They stopped near the kitchen. There was a dark and labored silence.

“Chloe,” her mother croaked. She had been crying, her voice was scratchy. “Who were you speaking with?”

“No one, mother”

“I heard you speaking to someone.”

Her voice was accusatory, and more importantly, whatever cracks the ordeal had left this morning were filled abundantly with fear. Chloe lifted her stormy eyes from the task of a solid meal once more and focused her entire body on stilling her breath and her words.

Chloe let out a sharp sigh “I was receipting scripture, mama. The Prescott’s have been a part of this community for a long time. I was quite close with Abigail and I” She forced her voice to shatter like a mirror “I hope she’s found peace despite straying from the house of the Lord.”

Her mother scrutinized her for a long moment but seemed to believe the words eventually. Chloe grasped a ladle and spooned some of the mixture into two bowls. She placed them each on the table before purposely sitting in the chair that Beca had been. It was still warm.

After long moments of silence, she started shoveling spoonful’s of the stew into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully as if to avoid any type of conversation.

She felt the hasty touch of a long black tail curling around her ankles. Her lungs still hissed with the scent of burning flesh, and an even hotter touch.


	3. ISS Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #3: Final Girls 
> 
> Beca is sent on the mission of a lifetime when an odd signal is received from a ship that was meant to come home but never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have never written sci-fi, like, ever. Go easy on me, please 😂

**The air was** cold in the cabin of the ship. Beca Mitchell had always expected space to be cold. There was an undeniable lack of oxygen and an even more undeniable lack of human life. She would place her nose as close to the glass as it could go and watch it fog up before using her finger to trace little designs onto the darkness.

She had read through every single book in her stash during these stretching three months. Each moment of her day was spent crossing tasks off of a checklist; make sure the windows are sealed. Refill the fuel used the night before, eat breakfast (She found that one odd until she nearly missed it a few nights in).

Beca started to reread the first novel that she picked up, her eyes wandering from the words to the vast emptiness outside. It wouldn’t be long before the shuttle made initial contact with the station on Jupiter.

It was a large and beautiful planet. Unpopulated for the most part. Her company had sent another ship before hers before they lost contact entirely. Beca’s main task, not the little ones that she put check-marks by each day, was to make contact, to swallow back her fear, and forget the static-filled final communication they had all heard.

The conference room was cold too; its walls were gray and the table that rested in the center was a dark mahogany. There was a tape recorder, its last button being pushed down as if to hold the black film in place. Aubrey Posen had her fingers pressed against one another. Her cuticles leaked crimson, which they had never done before.

Beca hated the way the chair squeaked when she sat down next to the woman. She hated the Chanel perfume that she wore and the way a charm bracelet with a little star jingled each time Aubrey shifted. Even more, she hated the way the woman stared at her, almost through her. She didn’t’ say anything, she hit the button.

**1200 [10-31]** _Rodger. Clock._

**1221 [10-31]** _Rodger. roll._

**1222 [10-31]** _Rolls complete. Pitch is programed._

**1223 [10-31]** _One bravo._

Beca clenched her jaw hard enough for it to ache. She imagined her teeth shattering. Aubrey had a stony look on her face and part of her wanted to mouth the words. She hadn’t slept. This was all standard protocol. What was Beca missing? She could run these codes in her sleep.

It burned her to hear Chloe’s voice on the tape. She sounded elated, her whole crew had been. Beca remembers the way, just five months ago, she melted into the woman’s touch. She had breathed in the licorice scent and pressed her nose into a fiery mane of hair. It was hard to let go then and hard to listen now.

Aubrey leaned forward and pushed another button on the recorder. Despite herself, Beca strained to listen to the words. They were too fast. When it finally stopped, her head pounded and her mouth was dry. Still- she sat quietly.

**0900 [11-04]** _Houston to ISS Immortal._

**0901 [11-04]** _Copy._

**0901[11-04]** _Was wondering if you had AUTO optics selected. Over._

**0902 [11-04]** _That’s_ _Affirmative._

**0903 [11-04]** _Roger. Looks like to us we need a PROCEED, Jessica, to get the sextant pointed at the star. Over._

They were taking pictures, marking every single star that the team before them hadn’t gotten to. Chloe had an eye for the probes and the lenses while Emily kept an amazing aim. Anyone would be proud of the team. Anyone would be proud to be there. Aubrey fast-forwarded the tape again.

**0600 [11-22]** _ISS Immortal to Houston._

**0600 [11-22]** _Copy._

**0601 [11-22]** _Breach in line, hull point of ship took some damage. Over._

**0602 [11-22]** _Stand by one._

**0607 [11-22]** _intrusion breached. All good on our end. Over._

**0608 [11-23]** _Nice work, Beale. Debris?_

**0612 [11-23]** _Bet you a cup of coffee on it._

**0613 [11-23]** _Copy._

Aubrey drew in a shuddered breath. It made Beca’s lungs ache. She had forgotten about the cold of the room. The little strip of skin by her thumb had been effectively peeled away and the frigid atmosphere made it sting something fierce. Her superior reached to fast-forward the tape once more, but Beca found herself stopping her.

“wait,” she rasped. Her fingers were wrapped around Aubrey’s and they squeezed tight. “It wasn’t debris, was it?”

“No, it was. That’s what our team believes anyway.”

“Then what? They all… They all perished because of a natural thing. Something that we were all warned about when we signed up for this program. I don’t understand.”

“Something got in,” Aubrey whispered.

She hit the little button and Beca found herself withdrawing her touch. She placed her hands in her lap like she was sitting in the last pew in a church instead of in a stuffy board room with a woman who could barely keep her sweet emotions in check.

**0614 [11-24]** _Houston to ISS Immortal_

**0614 [11-24]** _ISS Immortal, do you copy?_

**0614 [11-24]** _Copy. We copy. Medic standby._

**0614 [11-24]** _Stacie? Over._

**0614 [11-24]** _Negative, she’s indisposed. Over._

**0615 [11-24]** _ISS Immortal, what is the issue?_

**0616 [11-24]** _Emily is sick. Stacie soon after._

“It started with a fever. That soon progressed to chills and vomiting. It was bile at first, whatever they could keep down. And then it was blood. Chloe said it was more than she had ever seen.” Aubrey leaned back in her chair. That stoic, medical side of her started to shine through again. But it was quickly outweighed by sadness. “They were the two who repaired the damage the day before.”

“It could have been anything,” Beca cupped the back of her neck and dug her nails into the soft skin until it burned.

“But it wasn’t, Beca. It was something none of us could explain. We heard it all.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.”

“No.” She slammed the edge of her fist into the table. It shook that retched tape recorder and the chairs that remained unoccupied around them. Aubrey didn’t flinch, though her vacant stare made her regret the action. The side of her hand was numb and then it tingled with feeling. “You want me to listen to all of them die? My team? You think that’s easy for me?”

“It’s not supposed to be easy Beca. It’s going to prepare you.” She didn’t’ wait for another objection before starting the tape again. Beca wanted to plug her ears and scream until everything was drowned out. But instead, she rubbed the side of her hand and cursed herself for injuring it in the first place.

 **1245 [11-24]** _ISS Immortal to Houston_

 **1245 [11-24]** _Copy_

 **1246 [11-24]** _Emily is dead. Do you copy?_

 **1249 [11-24]** _We copy._

 **1250 [11-24]** _What do we do now?_

 **1253 [11-24]** _Standby. Over._

Beca felt as if she wanted to get sick herself. She regretted the big lunch. Chloe’s sullen words sunk to the bottom of her stomach like a ton of bricks. They had prepared them for everything, it seemed; the hull busting, running out of oxygen, every single machine aboard the ship failing them in a single moment. But not this; not some unknown illness.

“They put her,” Aubrey swallowed roughly “They put the body in the storage compartment and kept an eye on Stacie. That’s what Chloe said. It was the last thing… it was the last thing she said before what I’m about to play you next, and Beca?”

“Bree,”

“What you are about to hear does not leave this room. It doesn’t. And if it does I will not hesitate to put you in the ground myself. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

It seemed like an eternity before Aubrey finally hit the button. Once she did, there was nothing but static and distress. The formalities were gone and the screaming had stared. Beca wanted to move her fingers up to her throat because she knew theirs would be raw and torn and filling slowly with the taste of blood.

 **0467 [11-26]** _Houston… Fuck. Houston respond._

 **0469 [11-26]** _ISS Immortal, we’re here. You’ve been dark for two days. Over._

 **0470 [11-26]** _Bree? Bree is that you. God damn it, I’m so happy to hear your voice._

 **0471 [11-26]** _What’s happening up there, Chloe? Signal not clear._

 **0471 [11-26]** _She wasn’t dead, or maybe she was, and then whatever made her sick brought her back._

 **0471 [11-26]** _Emily?_

 **0473 [11-27]** _Shit… yeah, yes. Emily. She was fine and then she wasn’t. And then there was blood. So much fucking blood._

 **0473 [11-27]** _Copy. Where are you now?_

 **0476 [11-27]** _Houston to ISS Immortal, do you copy?_

 **0478 [11-27]** _Chloe, do you copy?_

 **0479 [11-27]** _I copy. I’m in the bottom brig. I can hear her walking above me. She can hear me too, I’m betting. I’m sorry, Aubrey. I knew you were counting on this to go well._

 **0479 [11-27]** _No, Chloe. It’s alright. Stay quiet._

 **0480 [11-27]** _You still owe me that cup of coffee._

 **0480 [11-27]** _Sure. We’ll go to that little shop on 9 th. Stay quiet now, okay? _

**0497 [11-27]** _Houston to ISS Immortal._

 **0520 [11-27]** _ISS Immortal, do you copy?_

Beca had been going through the motions, keeping her mind focused on those little tasks that she was given. She didn’t’ know the difference between day and night, fine and far from it. When her eyelids did grow heavy enough to close, she would hear Chloe’s voice. The screaming and the static, and she would jolt awake.

Aubrey had called this a rescue mission, but it felt more like suicide to the young pilot. They held onto false hope that Chloe had somehow made it, that the thing… whatever it was, that took all of them, moved on and left them to their own devices.

Chloe was strong, she was determined, and she scared the hell out of Beca on a good day. But it wasn’t a good day, it was a bad one. It was the worst one that Beca could remember. The rest had blurred into games of chess with herself, that horrible crackling static of the radio, and her own foolish hope.

She was awoken one night, or maybe it was day, to the sound of an easy alarm and the flashing red light of the controls on the right panel. A foreign object had struck the side of the craft and the radio was crackling with noise. She was sweating despite the cold.

“Houston to ISS Condemnation, do you copy? Beca do you copy?”

Aubrey’s voice was frantic. She groaned as she pulled herself out of the uncomfortable position that she had landed in. Her neck was aching, a pinch moving down her arm and to the base of her skull each time she quirked it a certain way.

“Yes, I copy.”

“Our sensors are going haywire, is everything okay up there?”

Beca looked around at the packaged meals that were strewn about and the black and white chess pieces that threatened to float through the air had they not been secured. She traced her fingers over the patch on her breast and the other on her wrist.

She pressed the small button on the side of the radio “I bet you a cup of coffee it was debris.”


	4. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #4: Possession
> 
> Aubrey and Beca take their youngest daughter to a child Psychologist when weird things start happening around their new house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, this was pretty scary. But like... not super scary.

**Aubrey Posen had** expected a lot more from the tiny office that rested on the third floor of a business park. The door had a frosted glass pane with fancy gold writing and dark stained wood, but the little waiting room that rested right behind it was cold and dark. It made her skin itch. This place was meant for children- wasn’t it?

The only indication that anyone younger than fifty-four attended sessions here was a small box sandwiched between two leather upholstered chairs. It was a forest green and contained a couple of picture books and markers that had long ago run out of ink. Aubrey instinctively pulled her daughter flush against her and passed her a phone to keep her occupied while Beca checked them in.

Her wife was just as nervous as she was, though, she hid it better. Beca had always been the positive one in the relationship. Though they both saw the world through the same colored glass, Beca admired while Aubrey shattered. She had a way with her words and made the unpleasant receptionist crack a charming smile.

Beca said a few more things that she couldn’t hear over the low hum of the game that Marley had stumbled upon. It was something with bright colors to captivate her, other than the slate grey walls and dying plant in the corner. It needed to be watered.

Beca finally flopped down into the chair next to them. She smiled nervously at their daughter, who had the same stormy blue eyes. She smelled of melted snow and vanilla lip balm. She had grabbed one of the informational pamphlets from the counter; _Your child and their emotions._

What it really boiled down to was ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions that ruled out if Marley was a sociopath. Aubrey didn’t want to look at it and Beca shoved it into the pocket of her coat, blanching because she had realized her mistake. Their daughter had switched to another app on Aubrey’s phone.

“What are you coloring, Monkey?” Beca asked, trying to keep things light.

“A tree,”

“That’s neat. Can I see it?”

Marley nodded with a wide grin and passed the phone over to her mother. Beca zoomed out on the picture; it was a nice scene that reminded them fondly of the home they had moved into a few months ago. While it was still summer, Beca had put up a tire swing much to Aubrey’s safety objections.

The photo had a white picket fence and a large oak like the one in their front yard. It didn’t have a tire swing, but two long sections of rope connecting a plank of wood to one of the limbs of the tree. Beca let out a silent sigh of relief. It looked fairly normal. She praised Marley and handed the phone back.

Aubrey shrugged apprehensively at her and gave a weak smile. Maybe things would be alright. Though, both of them were thinking, as they breathed in stale office air, that they weren’t going to be. They had been to a couple of specialists that lead them here. Doctor Beale was one of the top-rated child Psychologists in the area. 

“The Posen’s?” They had all glanced up at once, Marley quickly going back to her coloring while both parents stood from the seats. The leather made too much noise and Beca glanced back at it nervously before her cheeks blanched.

A woman with a mane of copper hair stood in the vacant hallway. She was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and a pair of black slacks. She had a kind face and striking ocean eyes. Aubrey instantly relaxed in her presence and forgot about the state of the office in an instant.

“I’m Beca,” her wife extended a hand first “This is my wife Aubrey, but you probably already knew that.”

Chloe chuckled sweetly “Yes, I did. And this must be Marley?”

Their daughter was shy. She had abandoned the task on her phone and clung to Beca’s pant leg instead. She blinked up at the pretty stranger and tucked her face into the fabric. Doctor Beale didn’t’ seem deterred by this at all.

“If you guys would like to follow me, we can get started.” Chloe didn’t’ wait for an answer. Instead, she turned and they began to walk down a hallway that was much like the main lobby- devoid of color. Beca had scooped Marley up, she pressed her cold nose against the nave of her neck. “I’m assuming you haven’t done this before?”

“No, never,” Aubrey answered.

They passed a few doors that were the same solid oak as the one upfront. They had been to a lot of pediatricians, and neurologists. Neither of them could find anything wrong physically. They had had a long conversation about mental health before they were pushed in this direction.

All four of them stopped in front of another similar door. This one, Doctor Beale, had keys to. She turned the lock and pushed it open. The lack of color in the waiting room had been culminated and thrown in here; it was a large room with every type of toy and art supply imaginable.

The walls were a friendly yellow and little foam puzzle pieces made the flooring under their feet malleable. Beca’s mouth was propped open almost as wide as Marley’s and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile easily at that. There was a large mirror propped up on the side of the wall and posters of animals and mountains around the space that hadn’t been taken up.

“She can play for a while if she wants, we still have a few things to discuss before we start.”

Marley still looked apprehensive, so Beca worked her usual magic. She had a soft, yet commanding voice. “Marls, do you want to play for a couple of minutes?” Their daughter whimpered and dug her nose further into her neck “Oh, come on now, look at all those cars. Don’t you want to check them out?”

It took a couple more seconds, but she eventually let Beca set her down before moving over to the large rug in the corner that had a grid of maps stitched into its fabric. She quickly grasped at a white matchbox car and started driving it around the sharp corners. Chloe leads them closer to the door without exiting into the hallway. 

“Which one of you is Marley more comfortable with?” Chloe asked in a hushed tone.

Beca made her stance rigid while Aubrey lifted her chin towards her wife. “She’s the fun mom.”

“Right,” Chloe smiled despite herself “Beca, would you be alright with staying here with Marley while Aubrey and I watch from the other room?”

“Sure?” She shrugged apprehensively “You just want us to play?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. The biggest thing we can do here is observe her behavior. From what I’ve seen so far she’s a normal, highly functioning five-year-old. From what your file describes, that tends to change drastically in certain situations. Am I correct?”

Aubrey had suddenly gotten cold in the small little room. Yes, Chloe Beale was right more than she would like to admit. Their daughter was a sweet and loving girl. She was outgoing and confident, but every aspect of that could flip on a dime.

“We thought it was because of the move,” Beca sounded out, looking over at Marley. She had grabbed another car from the shelf and slammed them both together, making a crashing sound “But she’s gotten violent.”

“She hears voices,” Aubrey said.

“Voices?”

“We chalked it up to an overactive imagination at first. Both of us were so tired from fixing the place up that we didn’t’ see the warning signs, I guess. She didn’t like her room. She said that was a tall man with a funny hat that would bother her at night.”

Chloe nodded and shoved her hands into her pockets as she had suddenly gotten cold as well. “Has this stopped?”

“Eventually she didn’t talk about it anymore.” Beca explained “We thought we were doing the right thing by making her stay in there instead of sleeping in bed with us. But that’s when the weird behavior started.”

“What kind of weird behavior is she exhibiting?”

Aubrey looked over at the young girl as she played with a few more cars. She had created a traffic jam and spoke silently under her breath. They couldn’t hear what words she had been forming and Aubrey figured that that was a good thing.

“She gets this vacant look in her eyes sometimes… that’s all it was at first, and we thought she was just getting distracted. She started standing at the foot of our bed and just staring, for hours.”

Chloe quirked a brow “You set up camera’s?”

“We had no choice. Things were vanishing around the house, expensive things like power tools and then little things like keys. We had just moved in so we figured we might have an intruder or something. But it was Marley every single time. That’s why we decided to get her checked.”

The psychologist thought for what seemed like a while, they listened to the squeaking of the car wheels and Beca started to trace her eyes along the posters. She felt like she was in trouble. Instead, she was seeking help.

“Right. Aubrey, if you would come with me.” The woman nodded and glanced at her daughter for a sparing moment “Beca you just have to keep Marley playing. If you can, direct her to the little table in the corner.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She said nervously.

“Good. Is there any way you can get her to talk about her room?”

This would be a little more difficult, but she nodded nevertheless. Beca knelt down next to Marley and pointed to the nearest car with question in her eyes. Aubrey watched for a few more moments before Chloe touched her shoulder gently and navigated her back into the depressing hallway.

They walked a couple more feet to the next door. This one, Chloe didn’t’ need a key to; it was smaller and darker than the lobby and the colder than the room they had just exited. There were two chairs facing a glass window and a little table that attempted to be spruced up with bottled water and a plant that was in even worse condition than the one she had seen before.

Aubrey wandered up to the window and stared through the glass. It was in the same position as the mirror had been. She could see her wife and daughter talking quietly by the rug that they had left them at. The psychologist took a seat in one of the chairs and waited for Aubrey to do the same.

“This doesn’t feel a bit… invasive to you?” Aubrey sat down, the wood was frigid.

“I’m a psychologist, Mrs. Posen, it’s my job to be invasive. We need to figure out what’s spurring your daughter's recent behavior.”

Aubrey supposed that’s why they had paid for the hour. She was hypocritical, worrying about sitting behind two way glass when they hid a camera between the stuffed animals on Marley’s dresser. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched carefully. Beca had somehow coaxed their daughter to the small table closest to the wall.

She went to the wall and grabbed a handful of markers and paper before struggling to sit in one of the little chairs. Her knees were nearly up to her ears, and in any other situation, Aubrey would have laughed.

Beca uncapped a brown marker first. She started to sketch the outline of a tree, stretching it to the top of the paper. It was nearly identical to the photo that Marley had been coloring earlier. She began to use that classic charm of hers.

“This looks kind of like the tree out front, huh?”

Marley was focused on dragging a navy marker against the page “Mm-hm,”

“Do you like the new house, Marls?”

Their daughter stopped the tip of the marker, and a large circle of ink started to spill from the hard-pressed gesture. She frowned and drew in a shallow breath. Beca had stopped coloring too. She watched with apprehension like they were sitting at the kitchen table once more- a steak knife within reach for them both.

“Was that fear?” Aubrey asked, sinking further into her seat. Her mouth was dry and it would have been easy to reach to her left for one of those water bottles, but she didn’t.

“No, it was anger. Does she get that look often?”

“Everyday.”

Beca slowly brought her eyes back down to the paper and started to color in the sun at the corner of the page. She was pressing too hard, hard enough to almost rip the paper. It was like she could taste the charged energy in the room.

“The house is nice. I like my room. I didn’t, but I do now.”

Marley never took her eyes away from the woman. She was speaking through a clenched jaw. Aubrey didn’t even know that a child could do that, that they had enough stress to show it like this. She understood nightmares and normal phobia’s, but this felt too… adult.

Chloe was writing something down on her notepad, but she leaned forward in her seat as if they were watching a movie. Aubrey could read the sudden fear that rolled in waves off of Beca. This wasn’t her normal energy, and Marley smiled wickedly at this.

“Yeah? Do you… still see that man?”

Beca had pushed it as far as she could. She had abandoned her picture altogether and focused her entire attention on their daughter. These past few months had been filled with exhaustion and odd fear, and prying sharp objects from little fingers.

One of them had slept in the rocking chair by the door each night. It was uncomfortable and made them stiff, but they had a keen eye on the door to their bedroom. That same steak knife that was nearly grasped from the table earlier had been close to Aubrey’s throat one night. She woke to the feeling of cold metal and then a thin line of warm blood.

They hadn’t told Chloe that. It wouldn’t be in the file that she had gotten of them. Everything else had been disclosed but that one night, the night that scared them the most would remain right where it was forever. 

Marley nodded slowly, “He’s my friend. I like his hat.”

“What does the hat look like?” Marley squints her eyes, and Beca tried again “Can you show me?”

Marley looked down at the art supplies in front of her. It was a random pile of markers and a few colored pencils. She grabbed a clean sheet of paper and searched over her options with new vigor. She had been given a task and Beca was watching her with keen eyes.

“No, I can’t do it.” She whispered with frustration.

“Why not, sweetie?”

Marley slammed her little hand down on the table and the markers and pencils and little cup that held them jumped with the extra force. Beca tensed up her shoulders but figured quickly that this was better than something being thrown across the room.

“There’s no red.” She growled out, gripping the cheap plastic table “I can’t draw my friend if there’s no red. It’s his favorite color, he’s always wearing it.”

“I can get you a red, Marley,”

“No. It’s too late.” Their daughter glanced up from the white paper, her eyes filled with that same primal anger as the night with the knife. Marley turned her eyes towards the mirror and Aubrey felt herself freeze. Chloe gripped the note pad until little dents marked the lines neatly.

Marley moved her small little finger against the length of her neck, somehow staring directly at Aubrey with a vacant expression and a truly vile expression. “He has red here. He has red everywhere.”


End file.
